


Weight of the World

by Duchesse



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Self-Insert, gender-neutral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 20:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15347619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchesse/pseuds/Duchesse
Summary: The fact that the fate of world rested on your shoulders didn’t sit well with him. It was worse that you were rough-handling the only key to save the world in a drunken rage.[Dante Sparda | Reader].





	Weight of the World

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably eeeeeeeeeeeeeeh, maybe DMC1 Dante, or sometime before DMC4?

He listened to the ice cubes clink in your glass as you polished off your whiskey, making the old dresser rattle when you lowered it a little too heavily. A doleful look overcame your features when you couldn’t locate the bottle to pour yourself another, but a glance around the room seemed enough to remedy it.

“You know, I’m just thinkin’, how do you do… that stuff?” You motioned across the room lethargically, directly towards his gear leaning next to the door. “Fight all the time? Save the world? Like, I don’t want what I was expect'n but it wuntin all this mess.”

Dante prodded the bottle of whiskey with the tip of his boot, smiling breezily as he finished his glass and stood up. It was refreshing to see your shoulders loosened up and the tension in your face melting into something more playful, wondrous.

“Didn’t take it you were such a lightweight. Of course you only want to ask me questions now.” He quipped, feeling the force of your stare when the weight of his hand touched your shoulder. “Time to hit the hay, don’t you think? Can’t let our locksmith go around asking the meaning of life after getting smashed on a couple drinks of whiskey.”

You challenged him with a scoff, shaking his hand from your shoulder as you teetered towards the bed and scooped up a tarnished box. Archaic symbols were etched into each face, embellished with gems that had lost their shine. It was the next riddle, the key to sending the demon lord back to the other world.

Dante watched you sway, eyebrows drawn together in thought while your eyes seemed to blaze in frustration. That damn box had been the reason he offered you anything to drink to begin with, all with the weight of the world resting on your shoulders since you were the only one who could open it.

“Doesn’t make sense, Dante. I’m a scholar, I’m damn brilliant.” You slurred, using his arm as an anchor to steer your body around him and towards the dresser. “I got masters degrees. I spent yeeeeears in linguin–linguistics, history, ancient studies. Mum was a witch, dad was somethin’ too. It’s a stupid box, why is it so stupid? Open?”

“Come on. Life wouldn’t be interesting if you just got all the–Hey! Hey, chill out.” The room erupted into chaos as you violently hammered the box onto the dresser. Dante grumbled under his breath, holding the puzzle overhead in one hand while rooting your body against him with the other arm. “Give it a rest already. You’re not getting this back tonight.”

You thrashed against him for a while, only abandoning your efforts when he flung the cube across the room, hauling you towards the bed all the while. “You’re the worst, Dante. I hate your guts.”

The bitterness of your words didn’t reach your voice, nor your eyes. You were more annoyed with yourself than him, even he could see that. It prompted a curve to his lips as he watched you flop on the mattress. “Right. Tell me something I haven’t already heard before, sweetheart.”

Even as you wiggled your toes under the sheets, drawing them as high as your elbows, tongue tracing across the tips of your teeth, you still looked somewhat contemplative.

“I admire you.”

That, he did not expect. “Well, you can’t stop there. Tell me more.”

He watched you give a shrug, turning laboriously to the side that faced him and fixed him with a look. Sobriety was slowly working its way back to you, though your battle with exhaustion wasn’t going as well.

“I know you’re a demon or whatever, but you and Trish and Lady just do this stuff all the time. You’re not afraid to do what needs to be done.” A brittle smile touched your lips as you spoke, he could feel the sincerity in them and the uncertainty towards yourself. “I know I can do it, Dante. I’ll figure out that stupid box, I’ll save the world. Do you believe in me?”

This vulnerability wasn’t something he was accustom to, much less seeing from you. That box was the final key needed to end all of this; whether or not you believed in yourself, there was no other who could open it. He could saw through millions of demons and drown in blood lust, but he couldn’t shoulder this burden for you.

In the end, all he could be was your blade. There was a part of him unsettled by all of this, having to relinquish control and leave fate to you. And yet that didn’t reflect on his face as he looked at you coolly, resting a calloused hand atop yours.

“I got your back, babe. I’ll focus on kicking ass, you focus on saving the world.” He gave your hand a pat and winked. “Just don’t take all my spotlight.”

You strangled a scoff.


End file.
